Star Trek Futurity: Cardiff Part I
by Jacob Booth
Summary: As one era passes, a new ship to bear the name "Enterprise" emerges and, on her maiden voyage, must venture dangerously close to what was once considered enemy territory....
1. Prologue I: Weston

The atmosphere was sombre

Star Trek: Futurity

Prologue I: Weston

The atmosphere was sombre. It always was. Particularly so at state funerals. There just seemed to be something so formally suffocating about them all. As if you couldn't really grieve properly because people were watching. What would they think if you broke down in tears on the verge of one of the biggest tasks on offer?

But as he stood at the window staring out at the deep vastness of space he wondered where the torpedo would wind up. Where one of the greatest men to ever wear the four pips would wind up. He sighed heavily. Just another streak in the darkness now. After everything the man had done, after all the legendary exploits he'd undergone and now he was just another streak of light in the darkness. Suddenly, his attention was distracted.

He turned to see a small woman with her hair tied up in a bun walking over to him, lips pursed, drink in hand. He stiffened up his posture as the Admiral approached and held up a thin hand, telling him to ease up. He did so and the two of them turned back to look out across the stars. This time, she sighed. He looked down at her.

"Time's like this I could do with a mug of coffee," she said in her gravelly droll. He allowed himself a formal lopsided grin but nothing more. "It makes you wonder what's in store for the rest of us." Her voice had suddenly turned soft and he became aware of every letter she let out.

"Certainly does," he replied. An awkward silence passed between the two, both struggling for some more small talk to sustain the image of casualness they had going. But he couldn't. He had to say it. "I'm too young." He felt her look up at him. "I'm not ready for it. You should've given it Riker." She smirked a little.

"Captain Riker is happy where he is Val," she said. "But he was on our list."

"I can't follow in his footsteps," Val replied, wafting a finger towards the space beyond the window. "I'm too young. Not ready."

"Am I to understand you're turning this opportunity down Captain?" she asked, her voice returning to that slightly stern gravelly tone from before.

Val sighed heavily again. He bit his bottom lip before finishing the sparkling synthohol in his glass, setting it aside on the nearby window ledge. He leaned forwards against the ledge and bowed his head, frowning as he thought. She watched on. She moved forwards and set her glass down, rubbing Val's back with her bony hand.

"Jean-Luc was a fantastic captain," she said. "And an even better friend. I'll miss him." She slapped Val on the back. "And you're an equally fantastic captain. So take the command." He didn't answer. "You know, Jean-Luc was also promoted to his rank of captain at a young age. He commanded the Stargazer for a short time." She stopped there. Val leaned in thought again before straightening up.

"To hell with it," he said. He turned to her with a faint smile. "You only live once, right." She smiled faintly back and held out her hand. He took it and the two shook.

"Congratulations, Captain Weston," she said. He nodded.

"Thank you Admiral." He took his hand back before straightening his black dress uniform. "What was that you were saying about coffee?" The Admiral let out a silent snigger before stepping aside and gesturing for Val Weston to go first. He nodded his head and the two headed for the nearest replicator.


	2. Prologue II: Tren

Prologue: Tren

Prologue: Tren

The communication screen buzzed loudly on and off. The screen flashed, indicating an incoming message from the Andorian Embassy. The room was dark and a screen was covering the window, blocking out the early morning light. The communication screen buzzed loudly on and off.

In the adjoining room, the bed sheets rustled. Someone sat up and rubbed their eyes before sending a hand through his white hair. He got to his feet and staggered towards the screen, wrapping a thin robe about his muscular blue skinned body as he did so. He pressed a button on the desk and the screen went blank for a moment. An image of a blue skinned female then appeared.

"I apologise for disturbing you Commander," she said. The man slumped down into the chair and rubbed his eyes again. He let out a yawn and shook his head. "I bring orders from Starfleet Command about your next assignment." He let a hand fall heavily on the table.

"When are they going to start telling me themselves?" he said irritably. The woman smiled.

"Starfleet feel they can maintain higher moral among the transferred officers if they liaise through organisations such as ourselves." The man grunted. "I know you weren't thrilled about the transfer Tren…"

"Far from it," Tren replied with almost a bark. "Look, let's just…just get on with it shall we?"

"I'm sure you won't be disappointed. It's a five year mission, exploration primarily. Scientific research and ambassadorial duties too, but that was a given I guess. Deep space."

"Ship's name?" Tren asked. The woman smiled.

"It's the Enterprise." She fell silent, still smiling. Tren looked blankly back at her and shrugged.

"Is that impressive?" The woman sighed.

"You're the First Officer of the legendary Enterprise, Tren. I'd say it pretty much is yes."

"A ship's a ship, ma'am, regardless of its name tag. Who's the CO?"

"Captain Valentine Weston," the woman replied, reading off another screen. "Promoted quickly during the Dominion War. He's meant to be very good but a bit…self-doubting." Tren rolled his eyes. "You're to depart tomorrow morning. You'll be one of the first senior officers aboard, along with the Chief Engineer. Good luck."

"Thanks," Tren said somewhat disingenuously. He turned the screen off and fell back in his chair, rubbing his face with his hands.

As he got to his feet, he ordered the computer to raise the lighting level, slinging the robe onto his bed and going into the bathroom. He filled a sink full of water before leaning over and splashing his blue skin. He grabbed a towel, dabbing it across his face before staring at himself in the mirror.

Command Tren of the USS Enterprise. And he wasn't even really Starfleet. He shook his head and replaced the towel, turning back into the main quarters and grabbing a fresh wine-red uniform. Just another mission, he was thinking as he dressed himself drearily. Just another ship.


	3. Prologue III: Lojal and Sakar

Prologue III: Lojal and Sakar

Prologue III: Lojal and Sakar 

The transporter beam materialised with its familiar sounds and the transporter chief stood forwards to attention, saluting the officer before him.

"At ease, chief," the Vulcan said in his monotone voice as he stepped down from the transporter pad, hands clasped formally behind his back with a small case tucked tightly under his arm.

"Yessir," the chief replied eagerly. "Do you need escorting to the sick bay, sir?"

"I am aware of the layout of the Enterprise, chief," the Vulcan replied as he left the transporter room. The chief sighed when the doors closed behind him.

"Know what they mean by cold," he said to himself as he returned to the console.

The Vulcan strode confidently down the corridor and towards the nearest turbolift, making sure not to collide with any of the rushing crew, moving back and forth with tools, spare parts and reports. The last few hours before the launch were always so hectic.

He stepped into the turbolift and span on his heels. He ordered the lift to take him directly to deck twelve and the lift lurched into action, whizzing gently as it sped upwards through the ship. It passed a couple of levels before sliding to a stop, the doors opening. The Vulcan raised an eyebrow at the man stood before him.

The tall, broad shouldered officer stepped into the lift and asked it to go directly to the bridge. The Vulcan raised the other eyebrow too when he noticed the ears tapering to a point.

"Fascinating," he said to himself. The man turned to him.

"Excuse me?"

"You possess the ears of a Vulcan and the ridges of a Klingon. A most interesting pairing of physiologies."

"Are you the ship's medical officer?" the man asked in an equally monotone voice. The Vulcan nodded. "Doctor Lojal, we finally meet." He held his hand up and spread the fingers. Lojal mirrored the gesture briefly.

"And you are?" he asked. The lift slid to a halt and the doors opened on deck twelve.

"Lieutenant Commander Sakar," the man replied. His voice had the tone of a Vulcan and his stiff posture told Lojal this man was more Vulcan than he was Klingon. Lojal nodded.

"Excuse me," he said and moved out of the lift, the doors sliding shot behind him.

Lojal moved swiftly down the corridor and came to a halt in front of the sickbay doors. Wider than most, he looked at them, taking them in for a moment. His home from home for the next five years. He moved into the room and surveyed the layout. Just as he liked it; rigidly functional with his office in the far off corner of the room, right behind a wall showing a large blank display screen. Beds lined the two side walls leaving a wide space between them for movement and storage for his tools. The surgical bay was situated in a small adjacent room with a curved back wall. Lojal proceeded into his office, formally laying his small number of personal items on the desk.

He turned to the screen and switched it on, sitting down rigidly and inputting several commands. A picture of the half Vulcan half Klingon named Sakar appeared and Lojal read with interest.

"Chief Security and Tactical Officer. Born to a Vulcan priestess and raised primarily on Vulcan and later Earth." He scanned down, an eyebrow rising once again. "A skilled warrior. Many consider him the best in Starfleet. Lieutenant Commander rank gained during the Dominion War." Lojal leaned back and stroked his pointed chin for a moment. "Fascinating."


	4. Prologue IV: Sandrine and Kellin

Prologue IV: Lucile Sandrine and Jonathan Kellin

Prologue IV: Lucile Sandrine and Jonathan Kellin

She stood in front of the warp core with her hands on her hips. It hummed powerfully and glowed spectacularly. She couldn't help but smile at it. A beautiful sight if she'd ever seen one. Her face glowed with pride. Something caught her eye. She frowned.

She moved forwards up to the railing and leaned forwards over it. The humming got louder, filling her ears. It was a powerful noise, one she could just lose herself in. She frowned and sighed irritably. Turning around she searched for a technician. She found a man in a gold uniform inspecting a nearby console.

"Excuse me," she asked. The man looked up. He had a youthful good looking face.

"Uh huh?" he replied. She was slightly taken aback.

"Do we not recognise superior officers anymore, Lieutenant?" she asked with a faint French tinge to her voice, noticing the pips on his collar. He frowned. A look of realisation spread across his face and he straightened up.

"Sorry, Lieutenant Commander." He had a powerful American drawl to his voice. "I'm no engineer. Flight officer." He extended a hand. "Johnny Kellin." She shook the hand.

"Sandrine," she replied. "Lucile Sandrine. Why is a flight officer in my department, Lieutenant?"

"Checking out what she can do," he replied. "Getting a feel for this beast before I get to take the controls." She nodded, slightly perplexed, slightly intrigued.

"I'd still prefer to pull rank on you on duty, Lieutenant," she replied with a wicked grin. He laughed.

"Sorry ma'am."

"Do you have a cloth?" He shook his head.

"No ma'am. Why, may I ask?"

"Scuff on the core." Kellin rose his eyebrows.

"All this for a scuff?" Sandrine looked at him with a faint scowl.

"Don't think for a moment, Lieutenant Kellin, that a scuff is a flippant oversight. The Enterprise is no machine. _C'est beau._ The slightest chink in any armour should be seen as a weakness, _mon amis. _If you have no cloth I shall bid you _au revoir_." She turned and started to walk off.

"Commander," Kellin shouted. She paused and turned. "You take a lot of pride in this babe, don't ya'?"

"I do, _oui_." He nodded.

"I do too. You've put together a babe alright." A voice sounded over the comm asking for the bridge crew to report. Kellin began to back off, pointing at Sandrine as he went. "Keep my engines healthy, ma'am. Look forward to working with ya'." He turned and disappeared around the corner.

Sandrine frowned to herself and smiled crookedly. She turned and saw a technician working underneath another console; they'd left a cloth on the console. She quickly grabbed it and leaned back over the railing to the shell of the warp core. She flicked the cloth out and rubbed the small scuff. It slowly disappeared. Sandrine backed off and put her hands on her hips, listening to it hum, watching it glow brilliantly. Perfect.

"Bridge to engineering," a voice said over the comm. Sandrine tapped her badge.

"Lieutenant Commander Sandrine."

"Prepare to launch in approximately five minutes."

"_Admis_," she replied. She turned and set about the final preparations required.


	5. Act I

Star Trek: Futurity

Star Trek: Futurity

Cardiff Part I

The Admiral stood on the observation deck of Space Dock, looking out across to Dry Dock where the latest _USS Enterprise_ stood waiting to depart. She couldn't help but smile a little at the sight. The latest Starfleet had to offer in one vessel. Its shape reminded her a little of _Voyager_ too. Arrow head instead of a saucer. Nacelles aiming up slightly at an angle. These, however, stretched the full length of the Stardrive section. She was a sleek beauty to behold. Even the array of phaser banks scattered across the hull seemed to be a thing of beauty.

The Admiral's relaxed body suddenly stiffened as the lights, previously dully cast, brightened up to their full intensity. The name was illuminated and the engines came to life in the familiar rich and bright red and blue. The Admiral smiled.

On board the bridge of the _Enterprise_, Captain Weston sat with one leg resting ankle first across the other. A hand sat on the raised knee and the other was resting loosely on the arm of his chair. His thoughts raced; he was sat in the same place so many legends had sat. He was sat in the Command Chair, the Captains Chair of the legendary _USS Enterprise_. And he wasn't even in his thirties.

"Engineering reports ready," Commander Tren reported from right hand side of Weston, one step below the Captain. Weston nodded.

He got to his feet and walked down the two steps onto the main floor of the bridge. He eyed the void before him on the view screen that stretched across the entire front half of the command centre. He turned on the spot, looking across to the right, his eyes drifting from Tactical, manned by Lieutenant Commander Sakar, over to behind his Command position where the Engineering and Medical stations sat on a higher platform than his own. The MSD stretched across the curved back left corner where several crewman stood at attention. He eyes went past the turbolifts and down to where his old friend Geraldine Bullock sat behind the Operations console. He finally turned back down to where Lieutenant Kellin sat behind the conn in a sunken level before the view screen. Weston straightened his uniform.

"Take us out helm," he said. "One quarter impulse till we're clear."

"One quarter impulse, Cap'n," Kellin replied as Weston turned. He paused, stunned a little by the accent before going back to his chair and sitting down.

The Admiral watched from the observation deck on the Dock as the _Enterprise_ lurched forwards out of Dry Dock. It moved slowly and the gleaming hull glinted off the light of the passing sun hiding behind a corner of the Earth. The glint illuminated the name and the Admiral was filled with a great wave of pride, both in her job, in who she worked for and in the ship she was watching travel towards the final frontier.

"We've cleared Dry Dock, Cap'n," Kellin reported.

"Very good Lieutenant," Weston replied in his clipped English accent. "Lay in a course for the Demilitarised Zone, warp seven."

"Course laid in sir," Kellin said back after inputting several commands.

"Let's see what she can do, Lieutenant." Kellin pressed one final button and in the deep vacuum the engines of the newest ship to bear the name _Enterprise_ flashed brightly and the vessel zoomed off and disappeared into the distance.

Weston sat watching the stars streak past the view screen for a short while. He got back to his feet and brushed a little loose cotton from his uniform sleeve. "Senior staff to the briefing room," he said after tapping his badge. He turned and headed up the slant in the floor towards a large pair of doors at the back of the bridge.

* * *

Weston was sat with one leg resting on the other, watching as his senior crewmen came walking through the door. The aging Operations Officer Geraldine Bullock, the Vulcan Chief Medical Officer Lojal, the Chief Engineer Lucile Sandrine, the half Vulcan half Klingon Chief of Security he'd read all about Sakar, Chief Flight Officer Jonathan Kellin and finally, his Andorian First Officer Tren. Weston spun in his chair to face them, leaning forwards and folding his hands on the circular conference table.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet all of you in one room," he said in a formal voice. "However, we should leave the niceties for some other time. We already have our first mission from Starfleet Command and it's one of vital importance to the Federation." Weston leaned back and brushed the sleeve of his uniform again. "We've been ordered to a Demilitarised Zone, specifically to the last known location of the _USS Cardiff_." Several of the senior staff looked at one another in confusion. Lojal cocked an eyebrow.

"I am aware of no such vessel, sir," he said, leaning forwards. Weston shook his head.

"You won't be, Doctor. The _Cardiff_ was the first of a number of specially designed listening vessels positioned on our side of the Demilitarised Zone. It was a top secret regimen that only the most senior officers in Starfleet were to know about." Weston trailed off. He thought to himself for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing. "I wasn't fond of the idea, much like a number of other Captains, but Starfleet positioned these listening vessels so as to keep a close eye on the re-development of the Cardassian Union following the Dominion War. Unfortunately, something went wrong. We lost contact with the _USS Cardiff_ and it's not been heard from since."

"What do we think was the cause?" Tren chirped in. Weston shrugged.

"We don't know. There were no reports of attackers and no signs of the Cardassians knowing the ships were there," Weston replied. "Starfleet has since called back the other listening vessels before Cardassia learned about them."

"If they figured out we'd been listening to them it wouldn't do a lot of good for our hopes of them joining the Federation," Sandrine said, catching on.

"Exactly," Weston replied. "Our mission is to locate the _Cardiff_ and figure out what went wrong and why. If it's in one piece we are too drag it back into Federation space, retrieve the crew and destroy the vessel."

"Starfleet are that eager to cover this up, eh?" Tren said dryly. Weston gave him a hard look.

"Starfleet don't want to jeopardise any chance of Cardassia joining the Federation," he said back.

"What's the cover story?"

"Exploration, if we're caught." Weston turned to Sandrine. "I want this mission done under low power. Can we run on auxiliaries?"

"_Oui_," Sandrine replied with a nod.

"Get it done. Dismissed."

* * *

Sandrine strode swiftly down the corridor towards the Mess Hall. The power didn't have to be drained for a good thirty minutes yet. She suddenly heard a familiar American voice calling from the far end of the corridor. Sandrine stopped and turned, seeing Kellin chasing after her.

"Wait up," he shouted. He stumbled to a halt in front of her, bending over to catch his breath. "You off to the Mess Hall?"

"_Oui,_" she replied with a look of bemusement.

"I could do with something to drink." Kellin smiled at her and she nodded, turning and continuing on down the corridor with a confused smile.

The two walked in awkward silence for a moment. Kellin cleared his throat to try and end it. "So, erm, French, eh?" She cast him a look as they walked through the transparent doors into the large Mess Hall.

"How did you guess, _mon amis?_" she replied. She walked swiftly over to the replicators on the far wall. Kellin stood where he was for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck and shaking his head disparagingly at himself. He looked up and chased after Sandrine again.

"Coffee, with milk," Sandrine said. The replicator hummed to life and a steaming mug appeared where previously there had been nothing. She grabbed it and headed over to an empty table as Kellin went to say something else. He sighed.

"Cappuccino, hot," he said. The replicator made his wish come true and Kellin grabbed it, quickly heading over to the engineer. "Mind if I join you?"

Sandrine looked up from behind the cup she'd just sipped from. She moved it away and shook her head, holding out a hand to invite him to sit. Kellin did so eagerly.

"Shouldn't you be on the bridge, Lieutenant?"

"Meh." He took a sip from the cappuccino, hiding the fact it was burning his throat as it went down.

"Are you so often loose with your orders?" Kellin laughed a little. He noticed Sandrine's face and cut the laugh off.

"I needed something to drink," he said after clearing his throat.

"I thought it was nil by mouth when on bridge duty?" Kellin shrugged and looked shiftily away. Sandrine smiled to herself. "So how long?" Kellin frowned back at her. "In Starfleet, _mon amis_."

"Oh. Erm, about nine years," Kellin replied. He took another sip and shrugged his shoulders. "I'd always thought I'd have made Lieutenant Commander by now but I think that was just because of…well…the war." Sandrine nodded.

"You served in it, _oui_?"

"Yeah," Kellin nodded. "From beginning to end. My first assignment was on board the _Picadilly _just as the damn thing broke out."

"I served also," Sandrine said, looking solemn. Kellin looked up at her. "Eleven years for me this year. I was told my next assignment would be as the XO but _non_."

"Aren't you cheesed off?"

"_Non, mon amis_. I was part of the design team for the new _Enterprise._ She is my child. I was involved with making her from start to finish." Her eyes began to glow a little and she leaned forwards conspiratorially. "No one knows her better than I know her. Every system, every wire, ever corridor." She tapped her head. "In here and safe."

"Look at this big time engineer over here," Kellin said with a grin. Sandrine laughed a little and shook her head in embarrassment.

"_Non, non, non_. The _Enterprise_ is really the only achievement of mine outside tours of duty. Only one worth knowing of anyway."

"What's that mean?" Sandrine smiled up at Kellin.

"I suggest you report back to your station, Lieutenant." Kellin smiled. "Now." Her voice was suddenly stern. Kellin cleared his throat again and nodded.

"Ma'am." He got to his feet and gave Sandrine a cheeky wink before heading off and disappearing beyond the Mess Hall doors.

* * *

Weston sat in his ready room. His legs were in their characteristic position and he was staring blankly at the doors in front of his desk. He was startled out of his trance by a beep from beyond the doors. "Come."

The doors slid open to reveal the Commander. Tren walked inside and stood to attention, his antennae moving slowly and taking in the new surroundings.

"Yes, Commander?"

"I have a…concern, Captain." Weston frowned and sat forwards. He waited for Tren to carry on but he didn't.

"Go on," Weston almost snapped.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted, of course." Weston sat back again.

"I think it's a little unwise to have an NCO as a member of the Command crew Captain. With no rank to pull there's nothing stopping the others from just ignoring her orders."

"You refer to Miss Bullock?"

"The Operations Officer, yeah." Weston nodded.

"I'm aware of the dangers of her being an NCO but you have to realise Commander that Miss Bullock has done more for Starfleet than any Admiral or Fleet Admiral I know of, past or present. Officially, she's retired."

"Then with all due respect, sir, why is she here?"

Weston got to his feet and folded his arms, staring at his First Officer. Tren stared back just as hard. "Because, Commander, she is a credit to this ship and to me. She is here because I personally requested her as my Ops officer from Starfleet Command. Her orders will be followed in our absence because she carries with her a respect greater than anyone. The crew will learn that."

"And in the meantime?"

"Meantime?"

"I know you've placed her as Second Officer, Captain," Tren said with a worried tone. "But the crew don't her yet. And when they see she has no pips on her collar they'll start asking questions. What if we were both incapacitated during this first mission."

"I see your point." Weston sighed and leaned forward on his desk. "Fine. Sandrine is to remain Second Officer until I deem it appropriate for Bullock to take her place." He looked up at Tren. "Happy?"

"I think you've made a wise decision, Captain." The two men glared at one another.

"Are we going to have any problems, Commander?"

"Not on my part, sir," Tren forced.

"Good," Weston replied. A voice suddenly chimed up over the communications.

"We're approaching the last known coordinates of the _Cardiff_, Captain," Sakar announced. Weston tapped his badge and acknowledged the call. He gestured for Tren to leave first.

The _Enterprise_ dropped out of warp and came to a slow halt. It was alone in a vast void. No planets. No asteroids. No nebulas. No ships. Just the _Enterprise._

"Report Miss Bullock," Weston ordered as he re-entered the bridge. He stood, looking out at the view screen.

"Short range scanners detect nothing," Bullock replied. Weston looked at the aging face and his conversation with Tren rang in his ears. He forced it to the back of his mind and nodded.

"Conduct a long range scan. Anything that could hide the _Cardiff_ from us." Bullock inputted several commands and after a short moment Weston looked back across at her in her booth.

"I'm picking up one nebula," she said. "It's fairly large. Located near a dense asteroid belt." Weston looked down at Tren.

"Could be," Tren said.

"Send the coordinates to the helm, lay in a course and get us there as quick as you can Lieutenant."

"Aye Cap'n," Kellin responded, sitting back down in his chair.

_Captain's Log. Stardate 41011.3: The Enterprise has entered the Demilitarised Zone and uncovered a strange nebula, from which we can only ascertain sporadic readings. Sensor sweeps return nothing. The investigation is being conducted under auxiliary power so as not to alert any passing hostile Cardassian vessels._

"Take us forwards slowly, Lieutenant," Weston commanded. On the view screen the large purple-green nebula grew in size as the _Enterprise_ drew ever closer.

"There's something," Tren said, pointing in the bottom corner of the screen.

"Magnify spatial grid 999." The image was enlarged to show two strangely shaped nacelles, curved and tapered to a point on one end, poking out from the cloud. "That's her," Weston said suddenly. "Helm, take us closer."

The _Enterprise_ lurched slowly forwards, its lights dim in space from the dip in power. It closed in on the two nacelles, which eventually became half of a rather fat looking vessel, a warp ring above the Stardrive section in the mould of a Vulcan research ship.

"Take us into the nebula," Weston said, leaning forwards with his chin clasped by one hand.

"Go to yellow alert, Mister Sakar," Tren ordered.

"Yellow alert," came the monotone reply. Yellow lights bathed the bridge.

Everyone on the bridge watched tentatively as the _Enterprise-F _slowly submerged itself in the purple-green cloud. The view screen suddenly turned to static.

"Report," Weston barked irritably.

"Sensor systems are…all over the place," Bullock said in her frail sounding voice. "I can't do…." She was cut off by the sound of an energy surge. The consoles behind the Captain suddenly erupted in sparks. Every console on the bridge began to flash on and off.

"Red alert," Weston ordered. "What's going on?"

The ship shuddered hard. Sparks flew out of the helm console and Kellin was thrown from his chair. Tren jumped forwards, calling for a medical emergency on the bridge.

"It's the nebula," Bullock said, clinging to her own console as the ship began to buckle heavier. Sparks began to erupt once again.

"Back us out quickly, Commander," Weston ordered as he braced himself back in his chair.

Tren lunged up onto the helm and, cringing as sparks continued to erupt beside him, inputted several quick commands. The _Enterprise _began to back out, much quicker than it had entered. Just as it re-emerged out of the nebula, a huge explosion in the depths of the ship shook every wall and threw everyone from their seats. The lights vanished, delving the bridge into darkness as the smell of singed smoke filled the air. A few seconds passed before the faint emergency lighting came online.

"We're out of the nebula," Tren reported as he clambered back up to the helm. Weston forced himself to his feet and quickly moved towards Ops, helping Bullock up too.

"All stop," he ordered. "Damage report, Mister Sakar."

"We've lost auxiliaries and main power. We're down to emergency power all over the ship. Whatever just happened overloaded the main computer core." Weston moved back to the centre of the bridge. "Miss Bullock, get me my view screen back."

"Aye." Weston tapped his badge.

"Medical emergency on the bridge, Doctor," he barked.

In sickbay, Lojal moved swiftly through the dim light, tricorder in hand as he scanned a heavily burned ensign.

"I'm busy," he replied. "Lojal out."

Weston shot Tren an annoyed glance. He ran a hand through his neatly combed hair and sighed. "Suggestions."

"It's logical to presume, Captain, that the nebula caused the ships systems to overload somehow," Sakar said. "By extension, given the evidence, it would seem the _USS Cardiff_ became trapped in the nebula and lost all systems vital to her survival." Weston nodded.

"Quite a conclusion," he said slightly sarcastically.

"It is only logical," Sakar replied.

"Away team?" Tren interrupted.

"It's dangerous but we need to figure out what happened here."

"Agreed," Tren said. "I'll assemble a team."

"Get it done," the Captain responded. Tren signalled for Sakar to follow him as the Captain jumped down, helping a stirring Kellin to sit up.

"Commander Sandrine and Doctor Lojal to the main transporter room," Tren said over the comm link as he entered the turbolift.

"And Commander," Weston called up. "Time is of the essence."


	6. Act II

Star Trek: Futurity

Star Trek: Futurity

Cardiff Part I Act II

The transporter beams illuminated the otherwise thick, dense darkness. That familiar sound echoed through the lifeless corridor. Slowly, the four figures materialised once again. They quickly activated their flashlights, searching the floor and walls. A cold shiver ran up Lojal's spine.

"The temperature is somewhat low," he observed.

"The walls…" Tren said, trailing off. He advanced and reached out a hand. He touched the wall with his fingertips and quickly withdrew. "They're frozen solid. Sandrine?"

Sandrine reached out with her tricorder, scanning the immediate darkness. She nodded her head. "_Oui_, Commander. Ice. All of it. Just ice." Tren gave a pensive look to his team and sighed.

"Let's split up. Sakar, with me. Sandrine, get to engineering if you can and see if you can get some of the systems back online. Computer logs and lighting is your main priority. Doctor, find a survivor or a corpse or anything that can help us figure out what the hell happened here."

"Very well, Commander," Lojal replied.

"Sakar and I will head to the bridge. Dismissed." The team separated and moved their own separate ways.

It wasn't long before Tren and Sakar managed to locate a turoblift, the temperature still making Sakar shiver heavily. The doors were jammed, but slightly ajar. "Commander," Tren ordered, taking his tricorder and stepping aside.

Sakar stepped forwards and placed both hands on one side of the jammed door. He took a deep, disciplined breath and wrenched back hard on the door, straining but just about managing to shift it enough to form a passable gap. He straightened back up to his apathetic Vulcan posture and took back his tricorder. An eyebrow cocked up.

"Why so pleased, sir?" he asked. Tren smiled at him.

"It's this cold environ. Really gets the blood rushing, doesn't it?" The Commander placed his tricorder back in its holster and leaned in to look inside the turbolift shaft. He suddenly stumbled backwards.

"Commander?" Sakar asked.

"Take a look."

Sakar leaned in through the turbolift and peered down. There was a huge gaping hole where the actual lift should have been, the only thing protecting them from the vacuum of space and purple-green aura of the nebula a solitary force field, behind which a layer of wreckage floated helplessly.

"Intriguing," Sakar said.

* * *

Weston walked across to the Ops station. "You ok, Genny?" he asked concernedly.

"I'm fine," Bullock replied with a warm smile. "Just the bones aren't quite made for this kind of thing anymore, you know." Weston smiled.

"I know, I know. I do appreciate you accepting this last mission, you do know that?"

"Yeah, of course I know that Val." Weston nodded and looked out at the view screen. Suddenly, the main lighting clanged back to life and the Operations console lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Engineering, report," Weston said down the comm.

"We've got auxiliaries back on line, Captain," a voice replied. "You should have minimal long range sensors and impulse power until we can get the remaining emergency circuits back on."

"Acknowledged." The console beneath Weston's folded arms began to bleep. He straightened up. "Report, Miss Bullock." She checked the readings before looking up with concerned eyes at her old friend.

"Cardassian vessel on long range sensors, cutting a path right below us," she said. "It's _Keldon_ class." The Captain sighed heavily. He tapped his comm badge.

"Bridge to away team."

"Tren here Captain," the reply came. "The situation here is…"

"Save your report for now Commander," Weston quickly interrupted. "We've got a Cardassian vessel coming up on us and we need to make sure the _Cardiff _isn't discovered." A brief, clearly tense silence passed.

"Aye, sir."

"Brace yourselves."

"What for?"

"I intend to nudge the _Cardiff_ fully into the nebula. You've got no power at the moment so you should be ok. Radio silence with us from now on Commander."

"Acknowledged." The comm went dead.

"Helm, give me what you've got. Engineering."

"Engineering here."

"I want shields. Now." A moment of silence passed when the Ops consoled let out an alert.

"We've got it," Bullock claimed. "They've rerouted power from the transporter."

"Raise them, Mister Kellin, then nudge us into the _Cardiff_."

"Aye, Cap'n."

The _Enterprise_ slowly began to lurch heavily forwards like a wounded animal. It closed in on the rear starboard nacelle of the _Cardiff_ without entering the nebula before slamming hard into it. The front of the shield was illuminated and continued to flash on and off under the stress as the _Enterprise_ continued to lurch forwards.

"Now full reverse, Mister Kellin."

"Full reverse, aye."

The _Enterprise_ paused, coming to an all stop. The _Cardiff_ continued to float forwards before disappearing totally inside the nebula. The _Enterprise-F_ then began to pull away back into space, turning slowly to face away from the nebula.

* * *

Back on the _Cardiff_, Tren stepped away from the frozen wall and exercised his arms. He shook his head. "Damn humans," he moaned.

"Their ingenuity can be fascinating at times," Sakar replied. Tren grunted before turning back into the turbolift shaft. He noticed the ladder was still intact for the most part; climbable, and that was all that mattered.

"We're going to have to climb to the top," he said to himself.

"Aye, sir," Sakar replied regardless.

Tren turned the flashlight off and pocketed it, edging warily through the gap and clutching the ladder. He groaned as he used his strength to wrench himself up and began to climb. Sakar followed, with much more ease and much more grace, following the Executive Officer up into the dense cold darkness.

* * *

Lojal moved down the corridor with the flashlight, scanning the floor and walls constantly. Just ice. Ice, ice, ice and more ice. He shivered again. He'd always found the cold to be somewhat of a hindrance. He was much more accustomed to the uncompromising heat of Vulcan. He came to a fork in the corridors. He shone the flashlight one way, only to find he had no need for it. There was a giant gaping hole in the side of the hull, sealed off by an invisible force field, the purple-green aura of the nebula pressing up against it. Lojal turned the other way and the light stopped dead. A body.

The Doctor advanced, using his free hand to pull out his medical tricorder and open it up. He placed the light carefully on the ground before pulling out the hand scanner and running it up and down the frozen block of ice that had once been a willing Tellarite Starfleet officer. Lojal inspected the readings on the tricorder and his apathetic face remained unchanged. He looked up at the frozen Tellarite and folded the tricorder back up, holstering it, grabbing the flashlight and continuing on down the corridor.

* * *

Tren continued clambering up the ladder. He just about managed to make out the silhouette of the top of the shaft in the distance. "We're nearly there," he told Sakar. Sakar remained silent for the entire climb. Eventually, Tren stopped in his tracks, his balance aided by his antenna. He grabbed the flashlight with one hand and turned it on, shining it up and finding a pair of doors in front of him. The label claimed the bridge was directly behind them. Just as carefully, Tren replaced the flashlight and reached out with a fist, placing it gently against the door and testing its strength. "A phaser shot should do it. Pass me yours, Sakar."

"I do not carry a phaser, Commander," Sakar replied. "And unfortunately, I have not yet had sufficient time to unpack my lirpa, either. I am weaponless." Tren looked down at the Chief of Security, the darkness hiding his condescending look.

"What kind of security chief comes on an away mission without a weapon?" he saidas he managed to just about grab his own, though with great struggle. He adjusted the setting and blasted the doors with a beam of energy. They crumbled against the power of the beam and Tren pulled himself up and into the frozen bridge. The whole front half was missing, blown away by some kind of explosion, the torn hull protected by another force field as wreckage and frozen bodies floated within the nebula.

He got to his feet and brushed his uniform down as Sakar joined him. The two men surveyed the bridge. It was littered with frozen bodies. Tren pumped his flashlight up to full power and walked down past the command area and into the main section of the bridge. He stopped. "Sakar." The Lieutenant Commander walked over and aimed his flashlight in the same direction.

"Intriguing," he remarked in his monotone voice. They were looking at two bodies. One was of a young woman being pinned to the floor with a horrified look on her face. Frozen. The second was on top of her. A man, pinning her to the ground with his face a picture of excitable lust. The top half of his uniform hung from his waist, torn apart in a sexual fury and eagerness. One of his hands had frozen over the woman's right breast. "Human barbarism perhaps knows no bounds." Tren ignored Sakar's comment, not interested in a debate about their human colleagues, and bent down, inspecting the pips on the collar hanging from the waist.

"This man was the captain," he said. The two officers exchanged a worried look.

"And the woman?" Tren checked. He shook his head.

"No pips. Probably just a crewman he took a fancy to."

"It is clear something struck this ship. A pathogen, perhaps, or a virus." Tren nodded in agreement.

It was then that both men were startled a little as the lights clanged back on. Several of them flickered on and off, still damaged, but for the most part the bridge had been illuminated.

"Lieutenant Commander Sandrine to Commander Tren," a familiar French accentuated voice called through the comm.

"Tren here," the Commander replied with a tap of his badge.

"I've got some power back to the ships systems but it won't last for long. I've isolated the circuit and insulated the coves they're in so hopefully this nebula won't send them mad again. You should be able to access the ship logs."

"Thank you Commander," Tren replied, tapping his badge a second time. Sakar had already moved to the rear of the bridge, cracking open the thin layer of ice so he could get to the controls.

"Maybe now we can get some answers," Tren replied as he continued staring at the horrific tableaux of ice before him. He looked around. The other bodies were just as strange. One was shown with his hands bracing against the console, his head looking as if it was about to slam straight into it. Two more were frozen nose to nose, one holding a middle finger up to another. A fourth was sat in the command chair, the comm badge shattered into little pieces on his knee, his tongue sticking out a little as he inspected them, phaser in hand. A final crewman stood in the doorway to the captain's ready room, uniform about his ankles. Tren advanced on him and found that the figure had been holding the ships plaque high above his head, glaring up at it naked and grinning. "Starfleet's finest," he grunted. He turned to Sakar. "Anything?" he asked as he walked over.

Sakar continued scanning the information that was slowly moving across the screen. His head pulled back a little. "Intriguing," he said once again.

"Report, Sakar," Tren ordered.

"I have accessed the ships logs, Commander," Sakar replied. "It seems the reason for the ice was a crewman. A young newly graduated Ensign in the Science division. According the logs of the First Officer this Ensign sealed himself in environmental control and lowered the temperature on board, shortly before freezing everything and everyone." Tren frowned. "Furthermore, it seems the damage dealt to the _Cardiff_, according to the Chief Flight Officer, was done so by entering the nebula. The ships systems went, as she puts it, haywire, blowing holes in the side of the ship quicker than the force fields could seal them. Even the self destruct had been activated by the Captain."

"What?" Tren said. He looked around. "This gets stranger by the second."

"Indeed," Sakar responded. "It is logical to assume that the crew went…well, mad. And given the fact they had time to enter this information in their logs seems to suggest that this was a prolonged process." Tren looked at the Chief of Security, who looked back in scientific fascination.

"Or a nightmare," he said back.

* * *

Lojal edged down the corridor, sliding between frozen bodies, all in their own unique and disturbing motions. The Doctor heard a clang. He spun quickly around, shining the flashlight at the nearest Jefferies tube hatch. The hatch began to loose and Lojal quickly pressed his back up against the frozen wall. The hatch clanged down onto the ground…and from it emerged Lucile Sandrine. Lojal relaxed a little as Sandrine noticed him.

"Lieutenant Commander," he said with a nod.

"Doctor," she replied with a pant. "Engineering is a mess. Wreckage everywhere, burned bodies, the lot. Nothing more I can do."

"I was heading to sick bay to see if I could access the medical logs," Lojal said in his matter of fact voice, as if he hadn't even heard the engineer in the first place. "I may be in need of assistance." Sandrine nodded and gestured for him to lead the way.

The two manoeuvred down the corridor until Lojal came to a pause outside a large pair of doors. He inspected the words imprinted on them and nodded to Sandrine. The engineer moved to the access panel beside them and managed to pry it open with a bit of iced wreckage. Inside, the wiring had been protected from the cold. Sandrine got to one knee and activated her flashlight, adjusting a few chips and taking the gel pack out, turning it around and replacing it. She grabbed a small device from her pack and blasted the gel pack with energy. The doors latched open. She smiled at the Doctor, but Lojal simply walked inside without a nod of thanks or any kind of gesture for that matter.

"_Je vous en prie, mon amis_," she uttered to herself grumpily before following the Doctor inside. She gasped at the sight that greeted her.

The ships surgeon was bending over a frightened looking young male officer with a surgical tool in hand, accompanied by a sick wicked grin. The other open hand was pressed against the officer's face, holding him down onto the bed.

"It would seem whatever happened occurred on a ship wide scale," Lojal observed. "And was most disturbing for those involved."

"You…." She trailed off. She quickly looked away and regained her composure. "You don't think it was the Cardassians, maybe?"

"Doubtful, Lieutenant Commander," Lojal replied. Lojal grabbed the engineer and turned her around. "I will need help in accessing the logs. The systems appear offline." She nodded and brushed his hands away.

"Very well," she responded, somewhat irritable at the Vulcan's lack of understanding. She ignored the disturbing scene on the bed and moved towards the medical office. Another body was sat frozen in the chair, legs resting on the table and the chair leaning backwards, the woman's hands behind her head. Sandrine shattered the layer of ice on the desk and tried to tap the terminal awake. She shook her head. "I'll need to access the terminal," she told the Doctor as she bent down.

There was another body still hiding underneath the table. Increasingly annoyed and afraid, she lashed out, grabbing the frozen body and throwing it aside. The body shattered across the floor and Sandrine shook her cold hands to warm them up before removing the panel and going to work.

* * *

Weston sat tensely in his chair, leaning forwards as he perched on the edge. Every time one of the consoles made a noise, he turned to see if it was the approaching ship. It wasn't. Kellin sat gently rubbing his cheek. It still felt like it was burning. He checked his reflection in the console; didn't seem to be any damage done. His console blurted out an alarm.

"Stop inspecting your bloody hair Lieutenant and report," Weston barked both suddenly and emphatically. Kellin straightened up.

"Engineering reports we have full impulse power when it's needed, Cap'n," Kellin replied.

Weston sighed and fell back, rubbing a hand in his hair. He just wanted to get this inevitable confrontation out of the way. This wasn't how he'd wanted to start this command off.

"Cardassian dropping out of warp," Bullock reported suddenly. Weston smiled a little. Finally. He got to his feet and brushed down the sleeves of his uniform, getting himself ready for the hail. "They are hailing us." Weston made them wait for a short moment.

"On screen Miss Bullock." The image of space and stars was suddenly replaced by a grim looking, broad shouldered Cardassian with thinning grey hair and a fierce aura in his auburn eyes. Weston quickly applied his sternest face. "This is Captain Valentine Weston of the _USS Enterprise_," Weston announced.

"Gul Damej," the Cardassian replied with a deep voice.

"Good afterno…"

"What is a nigh totally disabled Starfleet vessel doing this deep in the Demilitarised Zone, Captain?" Damej barked quickly. Weston sighed back his frustration at being interrupted. The Gul surveyed the _Enterprise_ Bridge. "And with half a crew."

"It's a shakedown mission," Weston replied with a forced friendly smile. "Getting used to the _Enterprise_. And the last I checked, there were no longer any laws regarding the zone, Gul Damej." The Gul narrowed his eyes.

"This is Cardassian territory before it is that of Starfleet, Captain. You will turn your vessel around and leave this instant, lest you wish your _Enterprise_ to be the first to be blown into oblivion on its maiden voyage." The image suddenly cut off. Weston shot a look over at Bullock who merely shrugged. The Captain coughed, struggling to keep his composure under the stress.

"Captain," Kellin said urgently. "That vessel is carrying a modified warp signature." Weston moved swiftly down to the helm station. Kellin looked up at him. "They're a part of the Obsidian Remnant."


	7. Act III

* * *

Star Trek: Futurity

Star Trek: Futurity

Cardiff Part I Act III

"Suggestions," Weston said as he leaned forwards on the circular conference table. He looked towards Kellin, who was sat down a couple of chairs to the left. He turned to Bullock who was stood by the door with her arms folded. Neither of them had anything. The Captain turned away and sent a hand through his hair again. "We'll have to leave."

"The Away Team will be stranded, Captain," Kellin said.

"I don't need the obvious stated to me Lieutenant," Weston snapped angrily. He threw an arm in the air and let it slap down against his leg in exasperation. He turned back to his officers. "There's nothing else we can do. The Obsidian Remnant won't hesitate to attack us and in the state we're in it wouldn't be a fight. It'd be a bloody massacre."

"We could defeat them," Bullock said hesitantly. She wasn't one for armed conflict but when people's lives were at stake….

"I don't want to risk inciting war," Weston replied sternly.

"The Remnant aren't an officially recognised agency for the new Cardassian government," Bullock shrugged.

"Not publicly," Kellin said with a hint of venom to his voice.

"Point being," Bullock went on with an annoyed tone directed at the interrupting youngster, "they can't declare war on the Federation if the _Enterprise_ fired on a Remnant ship. Even if the Remnant do work for the government behind drawn curtains, the political repercussions of unveiling that kind of an allegiance would be disastrous for the Cardassians."

"But the fact we're in the Demilitarised Zone saving a ship that was spying on Cardassia Prime, Genny," Weston replied shaking his head. "Not something we could cover up." He sighed and thought to himself for a moment. "No, there's nothing more to it. We turn around, head home and come back as soon as we think the Remnant will have vanished. The _Cardiff_ is safe in the nebula for the time being." Weston brushed his sleeves down. "Lay in a course Mister Kellin, maximum impulse. Dismissed." The two senior crew members turned and headed back for the bridge. Weston allowed his head to fall back against the wall.

* * *

Lojal scanned down the medical logs, skim reading behind the misty sheet of ice covering the screen. He could swear he'd heard of something like this before, something like this very situation before. He heard a faint laugh. The Doctor looked up to see Lieutenant Commander Sandrine perched on the end of a frozen bed, dragging her palms against one another.

"Is something wrong with you, Lieutenant Commander?" he asked in a matter of fact tone.

"So…_dossier et mortel, mon docteur._" Lojal raised an eyebrow.

"I am unaware of your native language, Lieutenant Commander. Explain further." She looked back at him. Her brow seemed sweaty, her short hair clinging slightly to her forehead. It was long enough to be in her eyes but she made no effort to sweep it aside.

"Brief," she said, almost growling. "Mortal." She shot up to her feet. Lojal straightened up. "So frail."

Sandrine turned to the morbid image of the doctor lurking over his frightened victim. She reached out and stroked the cheek of the doctor before sliding a finger across the surgical tool in his frozen grasp. Her eyes darted back to Lojal. "One second." She held up a finger in the cold air. "It's here. Gone…." Her hand wrapped around the frozen wrist. With one swift motion she snapped it off and threw it across the sick bay, spinning back to stare with a vicious grin at Lojal. "The next."

"Please remain still, Lieutenant Commander," Lojal said as he advanced. She began to back off as the Doctor grabbed his tricorder.

"_Absenter_!" Sandrine shouted, holding her palms out as she hit the wall with her back. Lojal paused, eyebrow raised. Sandrine raced past Lojal back to the doctor and patient. "This is what you surgeons do, _mon docteur_. You sing a tune and then cut us open!"

"I intend to help you. Hold still." He took a step forwards but Sandrine raced backwards into the office.

She slowly looked down at her open palms before wiping them hard on her uniform. "It's so warm," she said in a whisper.

"An illogical comment," Lojal replied. "It is disagreeably cold."

"Liar!" Sandrine roared. Lojal was taken aback for a moment. "All of us! Liars! Or thieves. We steal life we should not. You hide behind your Oath. I hid behind science. I will hide no more."

Sandrine suddenly barged past Lojal and escaped into the corridor, charging down and round the corner. Lojal tapped his comm badge.

"Doctor Lojal to Commander Tren."

"Tren here," came the reply.

"I believe whatever infected the crew has just infected Lieutenant Commander Sandrine. She has escaped to an unknown destination. She showed signs of excessive emotion and refused to allow me to inspect her." There was a short silence, no doubt impregnated by a look of confusion.

"Acknowledged. Get to the bridge, Doctor. Tren out."

* * *

Lucile Sandrine skipped down the frozen corridor, humming to no particular tune. It was just a bunch of random whistles. She suddenly lost her footing and fell on top of the muscular frozen frame of a Lieutenant; it looked like the female officer had been posing. Lucile looked longingly in the iced over eyes. She blinked and turned away, wiping her hands on her uniformed legs.

"_Non, non_, we can not, we can not," she said. She straightened up and turned back to the frozen figure. "To Paris? To Paris." She nodded her head. The nod quickly became a shake and she went nose to nose with the frozen figure, letting out a long series of tuts. "You're a _mal influence_," she said with a cheeky grin. She stumbled away and came to a halt. She'd reached the turbolift shaft. Laughing to an unheard joke, Lucile took to the ladder and began to stumble down it somewhat dangerously. She let out a scream as her foot slipped on one of the icy rungs, only to burst out laughing when she'd regained her balance.

She eventually reached a door leading into engineering and slipped back into the wrecked section, falling flat on her face. She began to snigger again. But slowly that snigger turned into a cry. Lucile forced herself to sit up, her brow now soaked with sweat, her uniform likewise. Her sobs grew heavier. She tried to gain some form of control over them.

"_Non, madame Sandrine_," she said to herself. "Get a hold of yourself." She turned and struggled up to her feet, only to stumble forwards and nearly lose her balance again. Her eyes met with the wide ones of a horrified frozen technician. She stared at them for a long moment. "It…wasn't my fault," she croaked. "I…. Innocent." She looked back into the eyes. Her mouth sneered. "Innocent!" she screamed. She lashed out, kicking the frozen figure over as it smashed over the ground.

Lucile gasped in shock. She dove down onto the floor and began to pick the pieces up, trying to reorganise them like a jigsaw. She stopped. She dropped the pieces and they smashed further. She began to cry. Then sob. Then bawl tears. She fell onto her side, curling up in a ball as she cried.

* * *

Lojal clambered up out of the lift shaft and rolled onto the wrecked, cold bridge. He got to his feet, brushing himself down, before nodding to Tren and Sakar.

"Well?" Tren urged.

"A most fascinating scene, Commander," Lojal told him. "Whatever it was that made the crew act…." Lojal trailed off when he noticed the frozen captain lurking over the crew member. "So strangely," he went on, "now seems to have also affected Lieutenant Commander Sandrine. As a human would undoubtedly say, she went stir crazy."

"Intriguing," Sakar added. Tren sighed back. He hated Vulcan conversations; they so often had a tendency to derail into exchanges of one word at a time.

"You know where she's gone?"

"I do not," Lojal said. Tren nodded. He tapped his badge.

"Tren to Sandrine." Nothing. "Lieutenant Commander Sandrine, respond." Again, no reply.

"Commander." Tren looked back up at his Doctor. "I believe I have heard of something nigh exactly the same as the situation we're encountering. However I fail to recall it completely." Tren frowned. "I was checking the medical logs before Lieutenant Commander Sandrine contracted her condition but could find nothing."

"It should be noted Commander that many of the logs are inaccessible due to the damage caused to the main computer core," Sakar added.

"Carry on searching the ones you can, Lojal," Tren ordered. "And Sakar, work on bringing me the ships sensors back online. I'm going to have to contact the _Enterprise_, radio silence or not."

"That would be a violation of…" Sakar went to say.

"Sometimes you have to violate orders, Lieutenant Commander," Tren interrupted. "We can't live like sheep." He tapped his badge again. "Commander Tren to _Enterprise_." No reply. He frowned. "Away Team to bridge. Away Team to transporter room. _Enterprise_, please acknowledge." Still nothing. "Where the hell are they?"

* * *

The _Enterprise_ raced as fast as it could back to Federation space. Its impulse engines didn't lend it much power, but it was better than nothing. The _Enterprise_ was a big ship, a crew of seven hundred on board, and she needed a lot of power to shift her. As it progressed slowly forwards, the warp nacelles suddenly lit up once more.

"We have warp engines, Cap'n," Kellin reported. Weston, who had been too busy day dreaming about what his Away Team were having to endure because of his decision, shot up.

"Increase speed. Maximum warp Lieutenant."

"Maximum warp, aye sir." Kellin pressed a few commands and the _Enterprise_ engines flashed blindingly in space before the vessel disappeared into the distance, racing faster than any other ship in the fleet could race. Weston adjusted himself in his chair. He brushed his sleeve down again and tutted to himself. He couldn't relax. Not while he had crewmen missing. He needed something to calm himself down.

"I'll be in the bar," he said as he got to his feet. "Contact me the moment we reach Federation space. You have the bridge Mister Kellin."

As Weston moved quickly to the rear of the bridge and the turbolift, Bullock gave him a look, indicating him to tell her why she wasn't in charge. But Weston simply ignored her. He ordered the lift down to deck ten and emerged. His hands were shaking a little. He'd had Away Teams missing before and that was during war time and it hadn't affected him as badly as this was. But then, this was a maiden voyage and not just of any other vessel; of the fabled _Enterprise_. He couldn't lose four senior officers of the _Enterprise_ on its first mission. There'd wind up being a bloody investigation.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure, Captain," a voice suddenly said, wakening him from his train of thought. Weston looked around. He was stood at the bar. He'd totally been lost in his worries. He looked back at the man who had spoken. He wasn't in uniform but he was human. He extended a hand. "Victor Foster, Captain," he said with a gentle smile. "Barman."

"I thought we had a hologram for that?" Weston replied, shaking the hand all the same. Foster shrugged.

"It's the flagship, Captain," he said. "I signed on. Hope you don't mind." Weston shook his head, waving a hand dismissively.

"Not at all. I'll have a whiskey, on the rocks." Foster nodded and looked behind the bar, pulling out a bottle with a long thin neck and a small glass. He shovelled in some ice from an unseen pot and poured a whiskey over it, the ice cracking underneath the liquid.

"Fresh from Earth itself, Captain," Foster told him. Weston nodded. He picked the glass up but his hands were still shaking, the ice chinking inside. He quickly put it back down, slightly embarrassed.

It didn't look like Foster had noticed. He replaced the bottle behind the bar and straightened back up, giving a concerned look at the Captain. He had noticed.

"It's nothing," Weston said defensively. He picked the glass up and downed the whiskey quickly. He slammed the glass back down hard and sighed as he felt the warm liquid burn its way down his throat.

"Doesn't seem like nothing," Foster replied. "Know what they say about a problem shared, Captain."

Weston wiped his face with one hand. "I've got four of my senior officers trapped on another starship," he said. "And I've left them there."

"Why?"

"To avert a war that probably didn't need averting. I put my paranoia before my own crewmen's health. For all I know they could be dead already. Some captain." He slid the glass away and turned slightly to stare out of the vast windows. "I don't know, Mister Foster. I…"

"Vic, please," Foster replied warmly.

"Ok, Vic," the Captain said back slightly unsure about how to take this man. "It just feels like I shouldn't be here. On that bridge. In that chair. Feels like I'm not…worthy." Vic Foster stood where he was for a brief moment, thinking to himself.

"Not so long ago I visited Cardassia Prime. It was just after the war. It wasn't the place I'd visited before, I hardly recognised it. When I was there I came across an aging man sat in the alcove of a burned out building in the slums below the new capital city. His hair was ruffled, his face bloodied and bruised. He was not a healthy looking man. I asked him what happened and tended to his wounds as he related to me his story."

"What was it?"

"He said that when he had been a young boy he had had a brother. They had been starving to death and he had to make a choice. You see they had discovered a charity eatery, a rare sight on the old Cardassia Prime. They only had one space and he left his brother there while he went off to find his own place of rest, his own food. He did so. In the morning he returned to the eatery to find it blazing in flames. As he stumbled toward the wreckage he found a small skeleton, probably no bigger than a five year old boy. Its bones and face were charred, the colour of ash. He asked a passer by what happened. The eatery had been hiding a wanted criminal and the Obsidian Order had consequently bombed it in the early morning hours, killing everyone inside of it. He told me that ever since that day he had scarred himself for his sin of leaving his brother behind to die. I told him I wanted to help, but hearing it was not his fault broke the tenuous grip on reality he had left. He took out a small firearm he had hidden in his shirt and shot himself in the side of the head. I watched him kill himself and heard him gasp his last breath."

"Why are you telling me this?" Weston asked.

"Guilt, Captain, is a powerful thing. After he died, another man came running around the corner. He said not a word. He simply stared down. And he cried. Cried for his dead brother." Weston frowned deeper. Vic shrugged and took out another bottle of drink as someone new entered the bar. "Cardassia was once a big place." He smiled at the new customers and busied himself with them, leaving Weston alone, alone to his thoughts.

"Bridge to Captain Weston," a voice suddenly chimed. "We will be approaching Federation space very soon." Weston tapped his badge.

"Turn us around, Mister Kellin," he replied. "We're going back to the nebula." A brief silence came before Kellin acknowledged. Weston got to his feet and strode back out of the bar, Vic watching him with an apathetic face.

* * *

"Respond, Sandrine!" Tren shouted irritably down his comm badge. Still nothing. He slammed his fists against the icy controls and looked across to his two fellow officers. "I'd have thought you may have been shivering by now," he said, secretly wishing he could be gloating about his Andorian physiology. Even after two centuries of friendship, the two races still felt some need to ascertain themselves the better.

"Vulcans are capable of lasting long durations without succumbing to physical ailments," Lojal explained as he continued skim reading the logs. Tren shook his head and turned to look away outside of the gaping hole in the bridge.

Suddenly, the lighting lit up to its full levels and the consoles began to flicker on and off. They clanged to life and Tren looked around the bridge. It was if it had never been damaged in the first place. "Get away from the consoles," he barked, drawing his phaser instinctively and expected the bridge to explode like a cluster bomb. But nothing overloaded. Not one spark. He frowned.

"The computer core must have been insulated. Only an engineer as skilled as Lieutenant Commander Sandrine could do such a thing," Sakar said. "Logically, this suggests she has restored as much power to the ship as possible."

"Good," Tren replied as he holstered his weapon. "Now we know where she is." He headed back for the lift shaft.

"Where are you going, Commander?" Sakar asked.

"To find her."

"Perhaps Lieutenant Commander Sakar would be a wiser choice," Lojal replied. "We are unaware of what side affects this condition may have and the Chief of Security is a highly disciplined warrior." Tren stopped and sighed irritably.

"Go on," he said, stepping aside. "And bring her back here." Sakar nodded and soon disappeared down the lift shaft. Tren looked back at Lojal. "Impeccable logic as always my friend."

"After all these years, Commander, I believe you would have predicted such a thing."

Tren shook his head with a slight grin as he went over to the nearest console. He smashed the ice and began to tap in some commands. "Sounds like an ego to me, there, Lojal."

"I am Vulcan," he replied simply.

"Let's see if we can figure out where…." He trailed off. Lojal turned.

"Commander?"

"It's only faint," Tren murmured to himself. "Very faint but…a disjointed warp signature. It's all over the place though. Damn nebula is messing the readings up." Tren pressed several buttons but many still wouldn't respond. He slammed his fist hard into the console. "I think…if I can patch the jigsaw together…." Again he trailed off.

"Commander, what have you discovered?" Lojal repeated.

"If the sensors aren't falsifying anything, if the damage isn't that bad then…." He turned to face the Doctor. "There's a Cardassian vessel out there somewhere. It's warp signature. It's modified to that of the Obsidian Remnant, Lojal." Lojal cocked an eyebrow.

* * *

Lucile stood slumped over the railing in front of what had once been the warp core. She was crying slightly, a tool hanging lightly from her hand. "So many scuffs," she murmured. She shot up straight and turned around. "The ice. It ruins things." She threw the tool away and advanced on the pool table in the centre of the floor space, tapping away with the buttons. "Hack the enviornmentals. Make it all melt away." She inputted more commands when a voice spoke out from across the floor.

"What are you doing, Lieutenant Commander?" Lucile looked up to see Sakar stood in the entrance way of a lift shaft.

"Making the ice go away!" she shouted back. She slammed her hand down on a button and the temperature began to rise higher and higher.

All across the _Cardiff_ the ice slowly began to thin. On the bridge, Lojal and Tren watched in confusion as the ice turned to water and dripped away, the dead bodies slumping heavily down where previously they had stood. Ice cracked into tiny shards across the colder parts of the vessel before they melted and soon the ship's chill had vanished, replaced by a glowing warmth.

"I suggest you lower the temperature on board this vessel, Lieutenant Commander Sandrine," Sakar said calmly. "Commander Tren is an Andorian and is not suited to such an environment."

"Bull!" Lucile shouted back. She wiped her hands on her uniform and backed off. Sakar advanced. "_Non, non_, not my fault."

"What was not your fault?" Sakar continued, still advancing.

Lucile looked up at the half Vulcan half Klingon. Her brow was caked in sweat. Her eyes were teary. "The deaths." Sakar raised an eyebrow. "You stay away," she barked. "Stay away, stay away, stay away."

Sakar continued to advance and Lucile lashed out, slapping him hard across the face. She went to do it a second time, but Sakar grabbed the incoming arm with his truly immense strength before pinching the engineer's shoulder. Lucile went weak at the knees before fainting forwards, limp and unconscious. Sakar caught her and laid her gently down onto the ground, tapping his comm badge. "Lieutenant Commander Sakar to Commander Tren."

"Go ahead."

"Lieutenant Commander Sandrine has been subdued. I shall return to the bridge shortly."

"Acknowledged."

* * *

On the bridge, Lojal continued scanning the ships records. The console suddenly let out a loud blare. Lojal raised an eyebrow. "It seems, Commander, half of the logs are missing. I have found nothing to confirm my hypothesis and unfortunately have no means of continuing my investigation further."

"Ever thought of loosening up a bit Lojal?" Tren replied, deep in thought.

"I…"

"Am Vulcan, yeah I know." Tren's eyes caught something in the distance. Lojal asked him what he had seen and Tren pointed out of the hole on the front of the bridge into the far distance. Lojal turned and raised his eyebrows when he noticed several lights blinking through the thick purple-green aura. "Looks like our Cardassian pals are looking for us, Doctor," Tren said in a heavily concerned tone.


	8. Act IV

Star Trek: Futurity

Star Trek: Futurity

Cardiff Part I Act IV

_Captain's Log, Stardate 41011.9: With the Away Team stranded inside the nebula that seemingly overloads all of our computer systems, we are heading back in order to mount a rescue operation. With any luck, the Obsidian Remnant ship that confronted us will no longer be there and there will be no further tense confrontations._

The ship dropped out of warp and approached the nebula swiftly. From his command chair, Weston scanned the view screen but could see nothing. "Ops," he ordered.

"I'm not picking up anything." Weston got to his feet and walked towards the viewer.

"See if you can get any readings from the nebula. Hold this position Mister Kellin."

"Answering all stop," Kellin said, bringing the _Enterprise_ to a halt.

"The readings are too scrambled to make anything out of," Bullock told the Captain. "I can't quite piece them together. But there is something in there."

"Not good enough," Weston said to himself. "Scan the area for any kind of residual ions or warp trails Lieutenant."

"Aye Cap'n," Kellin said.

Weston continued sweeping the viewer as Kellin inputted a series of commands. "Report, Mister Kellin."

"I can detect a very faint warp trail leading into the nebula sir. It appears to match the signature of the Cardassian ship we encountered earlier." Weston bit his bottom lip.

"Assuming the _Cardiff_ is still where we left it, it won't be long till they find it. How the hell are they managing to stay in there?"

"I don't know," Bullock replied. "Stronger shielding perhaps?" Weston stroked his chin.

"Will you be able to get a lock on the Away Team from here, Miss Bullock?" Bullock put in a series of commands before shaking her head. "Then we'll have to lure the Obsidian ship away. Raise the shields. I won't let that Away Team come to harm."

"Shields up," Bullock said eventually.

"Go to yellow alert and take us in helm. Slowly. Keep your eyes out for that ship." Yellow lights illuminated the bridge and Weston returned to his chair, perching on the edge with his chin resting on his balled fists.

"This is a bad idea," Bullock said. Weston shot her a hard glance. "We'll be blind in there."

"Remember Mutara, Miss Bullock," the Captain replied simply.

* * *

Sakar slumped the limp body of Lucile Sandrine onto the floor of the bridge before pulling himself up and into the command area. He pulled himself to his feet as Tren and Lojal both turned to face him. Sakar lifted Lucile up and placed her gently in one of the command chairs. "She resisted," Sakar told them matter of factly. He wiped his hands together briefly. "She was subdued."

"Good work, Sakar," Tren told him. "Conduct a scan Lojal and…." Tren trailed off, knowing the Chief Medical Officer wasn't there. He turned to see Lojal squinting out of the hole, watching the blinking lights in the distance growing larger and larger.

"The Cardassian vessel is stalking us, I believe," he said.

"They won't find us with the scanners," Sakar added as he wiped his palms on his uniform. "Our energy levels are too low and our signatures too scattered in the nebula. We will be safe."

"Lieutenant Commander," Lojal replied, turning to face him. "I need not remind you that the philosophy of the Obsidian Remnant is to shoot first, even if they are only suspicious of something being there to be shot. They take no chances. Regardless if they can see us or not they will fire. A single glancing blow would be enough to destroy this ship."

"I KNOW you do not wish it mother but I am going!" Sakar shouted back at the Doctor.

Tren frowned, confused. Lojal raised both eyebrows, intrigued. "How do you feel, Lieutenant Commander?" he asked, slowly opening up his tricorder. Sakar closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, backing away with his fists clenched tightly. He was breathing heavily. He continued wiping his palms against one another.

"In control," he murmured. "I am in…control of…them." He opened his eyes and glared at the other two officers. "I am Vulcan." Lojal and Tren exchanged looks.

"Let the Doctor scan you, Lieutenant Commander." Sakar shook his head.

"No scans," he panted. "No need for one. I am…healthy." The Doctor advanced with his tricorder regardless, but Sakar suddenly shoved his arm aside. "I said no!"

* * *

Weston was shaking in his seat. Whatever effect the nebula had it was seriously beginning to buckle the ship and its shields. One jolt was unexpectedly harder than the others, almost throwing Weston over the arm of his chair but he clung on.

"Shields are down to seventy five per cent," Bullock reported, her too being jostled by the shaking. Weston said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the viewer, looking out for the Cardassian vessel. Another harder jolt. "Sixty per cent," Bullock shouted over the rumbling.

"Engines holding steady," Kellin reported from the helm.

"Steady as she goes Lieutenant," Weston ordered.

"Fifty two per cent," came the next report. It was followed shortly by, "Forty per cent."

"The inertial dampners are losing power," Kellin warned. The shaking was becoming heavier. Weston was almost being thrown to either side of his seat and there was still no sign of the Cardassian ship.

"Shields down to twenty eight per cent."

"Damn it," Weston shouted, slamming his fist into the arm of his chair. "Take us out Mister Kellin. Get us out of the nebula."

"Reversing course."

The shaking continued as the _Enterprise_ turned itself around and lurched back towards normal space. The shields were being constantly bombarded with some unseen force and were within one per cent of failing before the vessel managed to escape. On board the bridge, the three senior officers sat panting from the near call.

"Ops, report," Weston ordered.

"No damage to the ship," Bullock replied. "But we've lost shields. We got out just in time." The Captain rubbed his chin with his hand again and shook his head.

"Let's rethink the strategy." He sat in thought for a moment before clicking his fingers at a sudden revelation. "If we can't find the Cardassians then we'll let them find us."

"Without shields, that'll be dangerous Cap'n," Kellin said.

"Yes it will," he replied. "But I need to protect that Away Team." He tapped his comm badge. "_Enterprise_ to Away Team." There was a brief silence until the response came.

"This is Commander Tren," a familiar voice replied. "Where the hell have you been _Enterprise_?"

"It's a long story Commander," Weston said back. "What's the situation?"

"There's an infection," Tren reported. "Something sent the crew mad. One of them froze the ship after hacking into the environmental controls and given some of the things we've seen it looks like anarchy took over."

"Explain, Commander."

"Attempted murder, rape, self harm, indecent exposure, we've seen it all Captain. And what's most disturbing is that whatever happened here…it looks like it's happened to Lieutenant Commander Sandrine." The Commander lowered his voice. "And Sakar too." Weston shot a concerned look across at Bullock.

"Suggestions?"

"They need to get back to the _Enterprise_ and be quarantined until we can figure out what went wrong," Tren said. "As soon as possible." Weston nodded to himself.

"There's a Cardassian ship patrolling…"

"We've seen," Tren interrupted. Weston held his irritation at the interruption back.

"We're going to try and distract it. As soon as it's gone we'll beam you back on board and I'll have quarantine teams standing by in the transporter room. In the meantime just…hold on. _Enterprise_ out." Weston tapped his badge again. "Now let's see if that brings the bloody bastards out. Miss Bullock?"

"Cap'n," Kellin interrupted. "Engineering reports shields are back online. Shall I raise them?"

"Negative Lieutenant. Bullock, report."

"No need to," she said, pointing at the view screen. Weston turned sharply to see the Obsidian cruiser emerging out of the nebula.

"I'm raising shields," Kellin said.

"Delay that Lieutenant," Weston barked. "Hail them quickly, Bullock." Bullock inputted a series of commands. Suddenly, the image of Gul Damej once again reappeared on the viewer. Weston quickly applied his friendliest smile.

"You were warned to not come back _Enterprise_," Damej snapped. "You're risking war."

"Gul Damej," Weston said back sickeningly sugary. "What can I say? You caught me red handed. I guess my scientific curiosity about this strange phenomenon here got me all hot under the collar." Damej went to respond but Weston cut him off. "Seeing as this is neutral territory, and taking your hostility into account, I take it your reasons for being here are scientific in nature too?" Damej sneered slightly.

"They're charging disruptors, Cap'n," Kellin said.

"Oh I don't think we should, Gul," Weston told him, still with the same sugary tone. "Firing on the _Enterprise_ wouldn't…"

"Who was it you were contacting in the nebula Captain?" Damej snapped. Weston raised his eyebrows. He paused for a quick second that seemed to last a life time.

"My science team," he eventually replied. "Unfortunately they are stranded in there. Perhaps we could work together to salvage them?" He smiled wider.

"I somehow find your excuses…"

"At least come aboard and let us discuss the situation. To avoid either of us doing anything rash?" The Gul contemplated the suggestion.

"Very well," he barked impatiently. "But I will be coming with an armed contingent."

"And you will be met with one." Weston's tone had suddenly become a lot sterner. The image vanished and the Captain sighed irritably, his false smile still plastered across his face. "I love Cardassians," he said sarcastically. "You have the bridge Mister Kellin."

"Captain…" Bullock went to say as Weston headed for the turbolift.

"Not now, Miss Bullock," the Captain cut her off. He entered the lift and tapped his badge. "Security detail to transporter room one." The doors shut him off.

* * *

Sakar paced relentlessly backwards and forwards, constantly wiping his hands on his uniform. Lojal and Tren stood a short way away, Tren with his arms folded and Lojal with his hands clasped behind his back.

"He's sweating a lot," Tren said.

"Indeed," Lojal replied. Sakar suddenly began mumbling to himself. "I shall talk to him." The Doctor went to proceed but Tren put a restraining hand on his arm.

"You sure that's wise?" he said. "He seems to be managing without us distracting him."

"Perhaps. However my observation suggests that he is slowly losing emotional control. Being half Klingon, should that control vanish completely his savagery will become a lethal danger to all of us and may require equally lethal force to deter it. As a Vulcan, I may be able to convince him to permit me to perform a Mind Meld, thus telepathically strengthening his mental discipline until we return to _Enterprise_."

"Flawless, as always," Tren said, removing his hand. Lojal nodded. He approached Sakar slowly.

"Lieutenant Commander," he announced in an authoritative voice. Sakar stopped. His head slowly turned to face the Doctor. "Is everything ok?"

"Ok," Sakar growled back, his fists clenching and unclenching. "I…am…Vulcan. I am in control."

"In control of what, Lieutenant Commander?" Lojal pressed.

"My…EMOTIONS!" Sakar roared in retaliation. Lojal raised an eyebrow. Sakar turned his head away and kicked a nearby console hard. "You distract me from my meditation. Go away."

"A medical scan is in order." Lojal grabbed his tricorder again.

"I said no scans."

"It is standard procedure, Mister Sakar. If necessary I shall get Commander Tren to order you to…"

"He can order me all he likes," Sakar growled. "I will disobey. I am in control."

"So you keep saying," Lojal said. "But the empirical evidence suggests otherwise." He opened the tricorder and advanced. Sakar spun around and blasted the device from the Doctor's hands, standing with a slight hunch and growling with his fanged teeth.

"An emotional response," Lojal observed aloud. "One of anger and frustration. Signs of hostility. Increased perspiration."

"What are you doing?" Sakar growled.

"I am observing my patient. Loss of emotional control."

"I am in control," Sakar said, sounding increasingly hostile.

"Doctor I think…" Tren started, but a hand gesture from his old friend told him to remain quiet.

"You are also Vulcan, Mister Sakar," Lojal argued. "And therefore you require control over your otherwise savage emotional impulses. You are losing that control."

"I am not."

"Now, you are lying." Lojal's observations were clinically vicious, so cold and matter of fact. "Vulcans do not lie."

"I am…." Sakar trailed off. He walked away but Lojal remained close in pursuit.

"Finish the sentence, Lieutenant Commander."

"I am…."

"What is your intended statement?"

"I am…Klingon!" Sakar swung about with a balled fist but Lojal ducked in time to avoid contact, backing away and stumbling down to the ground. Tren quickly drew his phaser.

"Stand down, Lieutenant Commander," he said with a great deal of authority and weight in his tone. He aimed the weapon squarely at the chest of the Security Chief. Sakar turned, sneering and scowling at the Commander. He began to advance forwards. "You will stand down or I will fire."

Both men were momentarily distracted by a strange laugh. They turned to see Lucile back on her feet, charging towards the wrecked lift shaft. She turned and dived down onto the ladder, waving goodbye to the other three. Sakar quickly turned back and snatched the phaser from Tren's hands. He began to back away. "No honour," Sakar growled. "No honour in hiding what you feel."

"Give me the weapon, Lieutenant Commander," Tren said, his voice having quickly changed to one of calm composure and sense. "Before someone gets hurt." Sakar laughed a hard Klingon laugh.

"The way of the warrior and pain…." He looked down at the phaser. "I never experienced it." He shot his eyes back up at Tren. "I hid like a coward. There is no honour in cowardice!"

Sakar suddenly shot a beam of energy at the Commander, but Tren managed to dive to the ground at the last instant. He rolled forwards and drove an elbow into Sakar's abdomen. But Sakar blocked the follow up uppercut and grabbed Tren by the throat, launching him backwards into the wrecked ready room. He advanced with martial and calm accuracy, his hands folding behind his back, the phaser dropping to the ground. He raised an eyebrow.

Sakar leaned down and grabbed Tren by the throat, pulling him back up and back handing him across the cheek, sending the Andorian crashing backwards over the table in the room. "I posses thrice your strength," Sakar said in a Vulcan monotone. "To resist me is highly illogical." He again grabbed Tren by the throat and lifted him into the air with one hand, slamming him backwards against the wall and choking the life out of the Commander.

A beam of energy suddenly blasted into the back of Sakar. He slumped forwards and Tren collapsed in a heap on the ground, coughing and spluttering. Sakar fell hard back first against the wall and saw Lojal stood in the entrance of the doorway, phaser in hand. He let out another blast of phase energy and it hit Sakar squarely on the chest. The half Vulcan half Klingon slid slowly down to the ground and lay there, unconscious.

Coughing and spluttering, Tren dragged himself back to his feet. Lojal entered the room and checked on the unconscious Sakar. "Give me the phaser," Tren snapped, snatching the weapon from Lojal's hands. He headed quickly for the doorway.

"Where are you going?" Lojal pressed.

"To find Sandrine," Tren barked back as he wiped his forehead with the back of his free hand.

"That is not…"

"To hell with your blasted logic, Vulcan," Tren snapped. Lojal got to his feet but Tren was already at the lift shaft. "Watch over Sakar. And see if you can cool this damn ship down. I'm roasting like a Tarkalian wilderbeast in here." Tren disappeared from view and Lojal stood still for a moment.

"Fascinating."


	9. Act V

Star Trek: Futurity

Star Trek: Futurity

Cardiff Part I Act V

The doors to the ready room slid open and Captain Weston walked inside, allowing his smiling face to lapse for a moment into irritation. He reshaped it again as he turned and sat down behind his desk, inviting Gul Damej to sit down opposite him.

"Do you mind if we conduct this conversation in private?" Weston said kindly. Damej stared at him for a moment before dismissing his two armed guards. Weston nodded at the security detail and the four men left the two captains alone.

"You know what you are doing is in violation of the peace," Damej said cockily as he leaned back in his chair. "You appear defenceless. I could have my vessel blow the _Enterprise_ into oblivion and be left free to search the nebula for whatever it is you are hiding, Starfleet." He leaned forwards again and went close to the Captain. "With reinforcements at my beckon call, you wouldn't stand a chance." Weston smiled lopsidedly. He calmly brushed his sleeve down before getting to his feet and walking towards the replicator. He wiped a finger across it and checked for dust. "Do you think I joke, Starfleet?" Damej shouted. Weston turned back to him, almost as if noticing him for the first time.

"Funny you should say that, Damej," Weston said as he sat back down behind his desk and crossed his legs. "Because your threats really are one big joke."

"The Obsidian Order…"

"Remnant," Weston interrupted. "You're a Remnant Gul, and don't forget it. The Cardassian Order is in no situation to be threatening war against anybody, especially the Federation. I mean, just think about what you are talking of for a moment, Damej.

"Let's say, for arguments sake, that we do engage in a fire fight. One on one, just us and our ships. I have no doubt the _Enterprise_ would succeed, despite your more tactical mind. You say such a thing would lead to war, that if a Cardassian vessel was wiped out in the Demilitarised Zone by a Starfleet vessel it would lead to war between our peoples." Weston shook his head patronisingly. "No, it wouldn't. Even if the nigh impossible is real and the Temporary Government over on Cardassia are utilising the Obsidian Remnant as they once did the Order, they couldn't afford to publicly acknowledge that fact. It would be political suicide.

"And I mean, let's face it. Cardassia is pretty much on its political death bed as it is, Damej. The Romulans, they're economically the strongest power in these Quadrants, and with their new Praetor extending the hand of friendship to anyone and everyone the Empire looks like its going to go from strength to strength hereon out. The Klingons, they've become aggressively expansive again now that they smell the scent of blood on their Empire and they're the last person who'd help your people out in this day and age. The only help you'll get from the Federation is if you join our ranks, which war would undoubtedly scupper any chances of. Hell, even the Ferengi are looking to get a foothold on the galactic stage.

"Taking all that into account, Damej, do you honestly think Cardassia Prime would even think about coming to the aid of the Obsidian Remnant? They'd be imposing their own death sentence." Damej went to respond, but Weston quickly cut him off. "And it doesn't end there. No, you see Damej the fact is that whatever may or may not be in that nebula we may or may not be so interested looks to be of vital importance to the Federation. It is the _Enterprise_ doing the investigating here.

"Now what that means is that Starfleet won't idly watch whatever may or may not be in that nebula get taken into Obsidian hands. You're not what you once were. You probably have a handful of ships at your disposal, and second hand ones at that. Nothing to compete against Starfleet's finest. But the point is, you could call on your reinforcements and wind up with what, a dozen or so ships. Given the importance of whatever may or may not be in that nebula, I could call in my reinforcements and wind up with about a hundred ships at my disposal.

"So Damej, I look at this way. You can allow us to get on with whatever we may or may not be doing undisturbed and uninterrupted, turn around, go home. Or you can try and take the _Enterprise_ on alone, and fail, and watch your own government hunt your people down in order to save its political rear end. Or you could take the third option and challenge all of Starfleet to a fire fight, be totally ignored by the Cardassian space fleets and watch your Remnant get blown into oblivion. What's it going to be?"

With his tirade over, Weston leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together and placing them in his lap as he smiled smugly. Damej sneered and ground his teeth together. "We shall fall back," he spat defensively as he got to his feet and stormed out of the ready room. After he had gone, Weston sighed heavily and allowed his head to fall forwards against his table. He stayed like that for several long minutes, regaining his composure. Who'd have thought captaincy of the _Enterprise_ could lead to this much stress? A voice chimed up over the comm.

"Lieutenant Kellin to Captain Weston. The Cardassian ship is retreating." Weston got to his feet and went back onto the main bridge, watching the Obsidian vessel turn and vanish into warp speed as he took his place in the command chair.

"Whatever you said must have done the trick," Bullock claimed.

"You know me, Genny," Weston replied informally. "Ever the diplomat. Now, let's get our crewmen back." He tapped his comm badge. "_Enterprise_ to Commander Tren, we're ready to bring you home."

"I'm busy," Tren barked back viciously. Weston's jaw automatically clenched.

"Commander, I do not like your tone." No response came. Weston tapped his badge again. "Commander? Tren, respond." Nothing. Weston ran a hand through his hair. "Alright. If he won't bring them back then I'll take them back. Helm, edge us closer to the nebula but don't go in."

"Aye, sir," Kellin replied.

The _Enterprise_, now safely alone to do as she wished, turned slowly back towards the nebula and edged warily closer to the purple-green cloud. Closer, closer. It soon came to a halt, its nose just avoiding scraping the cloud.

"Miss Bullock?" Weston asked. Bullock was busy working the controls on the Ops console. She was continuously met with a harsh beeping noise. She shook her head.

"It's no use," she replied. "I can't get a lock. I can't even keep the _Cardiff_ energy signatures close together. If I try and beam them out they'll turn up like severed limbs."

Weston turned back to the viewer, finding himself thinking heavily. He was giving himself a bloody headache. He massaged his temples with his index fingers. "Looks like we have no other choice," he said almost to himself. "Mister Kellin. Keep the shields down and…take us into the nebula." Kellin turned and gave the Captain a disbelieving look. Weston ignored it. "Miss Bullock, make sure you have the transporters aimed on the last known coordinates of the _Cardiff_ and get the team out as quickly as you can. The less time we spend in that nebula the better. Go to red alert." The lights dimmed and the red colours bathed over the bridge, the alarm sounding. "Put me on ship wide speaker."

"You're on," Bullock said after punching several buttons.

"This is Captain Weston. We are about to re-enter the nebula. I need security details and quarantine teams to report to the main transporter room. Damage limitation on stand by, fire crews at the ready. All hands, brace for the worst. Weston out." He signalled for Bullock to terminate the comm. "Stand by Mister Kellin." Weston tapped his badge. "Bridge to engineering." An unfamiliar voice answered. "I'm going to have the computer activate the Emergency Engineering Holographic Programmes, give you a helping hand. Things are about to get messy." The message was acknowledged and Weston moved to his chair, inputting several commands in the small consoles at the end of the arms. "Computer, activate Emergency Engineering Holographic Programmes, ship wide sweep. Authorisation _Weston Iota 715._"

The computer bleeped in response and in the two rear corners of the bridge two tall, broad shouldered, black haired men materialised, both with identical faces. They had engineering kits held in their hands and stood at the ready. Weston straightened his uniform and clutched the arm ends of his chair. He cleared his throat. "Okay Mister Kellin. Take us in."

The _Enterprise _lurched forwards. The purple-green mist soon enveloped the viewer, more or less rendering the naked eye useless due to the density of it. It began to clear and the flagship of the Federation was once more fully submerged. The consoles began to grow hot. Something rocked deep in the bowels of the ship. A second rumbling and a third. The tactical console erupted in a shower of sparks, sending the crewman flying backwards across the floor. Kellin quickly dived away as a similar happening occurred to the helm.

"Damage report," Weston ordered as the MSD blew up into smoke.

"Damage sustained on all decks," Kellin shouted over the chaos as the EEH's saw to the damage to the various stations.

"Miss Bullock!" Weston shouted urgently as the console by the XO seat erupted in flames.

"I've got the _Cardiff_ on sensors." Something rocked the ship hard.

"We've lost warp drive," Kellin shouted.

"I can't localise their bio signals," Bullock reported. The nebula keeps…got it!" Suddenly the Ops console erupted. Bullock was thrown backwards hard against the rear of the booth and she collapsed onto the ground.

"Tactical systems are offline," Kellin reported after another explosion in the bowels of the _Enterprise_.

"Medical emergency on the bridge," Weston shouted down the comm as he zoomed quickly over to the Ops station. He jumped over the console and slammed the transport button. "Transporter room, do we have them?" Again sparks flew up from the medical and engineering consoles, showering the command chair in smoke.

"Positive, bridge," the transporter chief responded. Something shook the ship hard again.

"Get us out of here Mister Kellin," Weston shouted. "Full reverse!"

* * *

In the transporter room, the control console was blasted offline and the chief stumbled back against the wall. Tactical teams quickly subdued Lucile with two stun shots to the chest. Lojal and the medics placed Sakar onto a float-bed and Lojal punched in a command on the small control pad. A field shot to life around the bed and the Doctor led the way out towards sickbay. The security officers grabbed Lucile and followed.

Suddenly, the ship stopped rocking. The lights returned to normal and red alert was stood down. The smell of smoke filled the air in the room. "Looks like we're out of the nebula," the chief said. Commander Tren was still stood on the transporter pad, head bowed, rubbing his free palm on his uniform and clutching the phaser in his other hand. "I think you're wanted on the bridge, sir," the chief told him. Tren slowly looked up. The First Officer suddenly lifted the phaser and blasted the chief into unconsciousness. He stepped down from the pad and threw his comm badge down on the unmoving body of the transporter chief, leaving the room with a walk of intent and purpose.

* * *

"See to Miss Bullock," Weston said as a medic entered the bridge. She dashed over to the fallen Ops officer as Weston moved back down to the helm. "Damage report Mister Kellin." Kellin quickly ran over to the tactical console operated it for a few short seconds.

"Heavy damage sustained to decks sixteen through eighteen Cap'n," he replied. "Tactical systems are offline, warp drive is down and we have minimal impulse capacity. Environmental systems are safely intact but we've lost power to all decks below deck nineteen. Sickbay is reporting mild casualties, most wounded."

"Sensors?"

"Unaffected. Same as transporters Cap'n." Weston nodded.

"Some fine piloting there Lieutenant," he said. He moved back to his chair, tapping his badge as he went. "Bridge to Command Tren, report." No answer came. Weston sighed irritably. "Who the hell have Starfleet given me here," he said to himself. "Computer, locate Commander Tren."

"Commander Tren is in transporter room one," the familiar female voice responded. Weston pressed the ship comm on his chair's console.

"Bridge to transporter room one." No reply. "Transporter room one, respond." Still nothing.

"Miss Bullock needs medical attention, Captain," the medic said. "I'll beam us straight to sickbay." Weston nodded and got back to his feet, running a hand through his hair as the medic and Bullock dematerialised.

"Mister Kellin…" Weston began.

He was cut off. Every console on the bridge began to turn off systematically, one after the other after the other. Weston followed the energy drain from the MSD all the way back around to the Ops station. Kellin moved back over to the helm and tried several commands. Nothing.

"Helm is…offline, sir," he said. He turned and quickly moved over to the Ops station. "So is Ops." He looked concernedly up at the Captain.

"What the hell is going on?" Weston barked. The ships comm sparked to life.

"This is Tren," a familiar and now unwelcome voice said. Weston span quickly around and went to respond, only to find his own consoles offline too.

"What is this mad man doing with my bloody ship?" he barked into thin air.

"I thought I'd have a little fun," the Andorian said. "You Starfleet types are so dull. If I can't drink I'll improvise. Let's see how we all get along not knowing where anybody is or what anybody is doing. Let's introduce a little chaos into our lives again. It'll be like…." He trailed off. "Like drinking." The ship comm system went dead. Weston sneered.

"He must have caught whatever disease he was talking about earlier, sir," Kellin said. He and the Captain were now the only ones left on the dark bridge. Weston's lips were pursed, his teeth clenched together. His face slowly turned from one of anger to one of worry, anxiety even. Kellin frowned. "Captain?"

"Look," he said, pointing at the main viewer. Kellin turned.

The Obsidian ship was back. And it had three of its friends tailing along behind it.

_To Be Continued…._


End file.
